


Trial By Combat

by PerishTwice



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Happy Ending, POV Multiple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 12:56:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7574830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PerishTwice/pseuds/PerishTwice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Daenerys conquers Westeros, vengeance for her father's murder is the first thing on her mind. Now Jaime's only chance is a trial by combat, and he is desperately in need of a champion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  The cell was dark; Jaime wouldn’t have been able to see his hand in front of his face even if he’d had a hand to see. He’d lost track of how many days he’d spent rotting down here, but he knew it was a fair number. Too many, in fact. What were they waiting for? The trial couldn’t require much preparation. They wouldn’t even need witnesses, just his name. Kingslayer. He was a dead man.

  He heard footsteps outside his door, then muffled voices. The sound of a key in the lock, the groan of the opening door. The light hit him full in the face and he scrambled backwards, cowering and shielding his eyes. They’ll like this, won’t they. Look at the mighty Kingslayer, Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, shitting himself on the floor of some dungeon because the light’s too bright. Well, let them laugh. A dead man could care less what others thought.

  He sensed someone standing in the doorway, looking down at him. It wouldn’t surprise him if they’d only opened the door to laugh.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘It’s good to see you too, brother.’

  Slowly, Jaime lowered his arms. The light was still too bright for him to make out any features, but the silhouette undoubtedly belonged to Tyrion. From outside the cell, Tyrion was handed a candle. He came inside and set it on the floor, and the door inched shut behind him.

  Neither of them spoke. In the candlelight, Jaime studied his brother’s features. He hadn’t changed much in the time he’d been away. The light glinted off of something gold on Tyrion’s clothes, and Jaime laughed.

  ‘They made you Hand again, I see.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Let’s hope it goes better than last time.’

  ‘You know, I should really thank you for this, brother.’ Tyrion paused. ‘If you hadn’t convinced Varys to send me to Essos...’

  He trailed off into silence. Jaime let it grow. He wasn’t interested in reminiscing. He especially wasn’t interested in considering what might or might not have happened if he had never set Tyrion free.

  ‘What do you want, Tyrion?’

  ‘To repay a debt.’

  His brother always did enjoy speaking in riddles. ‘I wasn’t aware that you were indebted to me.’

  ‘I owe you my life, Jaime.’

  Jaime sighed. ‘If you remember correctly, brother, freeing you was repaying a debt. You owe me nothing.’

  ‘Actually I’ve already repaid that debt. A lie for a lie.’ He paused. ‘I did not kill Joffrey.’

  Joffrey. What a long time ago that was. A different life. ‘I don’t care. The brat deserved to die, everyone could see that.’

  ‘Well, everyone except Cersei. How is our sweet sister?’

  They hadn’t told him? How strange. ‘Cersei didn’t survive the sack of King’s Landing.’

  ‘Really? I would have thought they’d want her alive.’

  ‘They did.’

  ‘Ah.’

  Silence took over the darkness once more. Jaime thought of Cersei, remembering all of her, the child at Casterly Rock, the woman he had loved, who had borne his children and never let him hold them. The woman he had despised, by the end.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Tyrion sounded unsure. What a family they were. Two brothers discussing the death of their sister, and neither of them could bring themselves to care.

  ‘Don’t be.’

  Tyrion lowered himself to the floor, awkwardly, as if for something to do. He waited, perhaps thinking that Jaime had something more to say. If so, he was disappointed. He cleared his throat and began again.

  ‘Still, the fact remains that I consider myself in your debt, Jaime, even if you refuse to see it that way. I see two debts between us. A lie for a lie – that’s been paid – and then there’s freedom for freedom.’

  For the first time since Tyrion had entered the room, Jaime found himself paying full attention. He studied his brother’s face, searching for some sign he was joking, that this was all a cruel trick. He found none.

  ‘You’re willing to help me escape?’

  ‘Escape?’ Tyrion laughed. ‘No, indeed not. I hardly think it would be wise for the Hand to aid the one person the Queen hates most in the world at this moment.’

  As if he needed reminding. ‘Then what are you suggesting, brother?’

  ‘For you to go free in the eyes of the law.’

  Oh. So it was all a jape. Jaime couldn’t help himself: he started laughing and found he was unable to stop. He rolled onto his side, gasping for breath, his eyes streaming uncontrollably. Above him, he heard Tyrion’s disapproving voice.

  ‘It’s not funny.’

  Jaime pushed himself back up, attempting to regain some measure of control. ‘On the contrary, brother, it’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in quite some time.’

  The look of reproof in Tyrion’s eyes did nothing to dispel his humour. Choking back a laugh, Jaime leant forwards, looking his brother full in the face.

  ‘Men have called me Kingslayer for years now, and I’m finally on trial for killing a king. So please tell me how you suggesting that the law will grant my freedom isn’t the worst joke that I’ve ever heard.’

  ‘You have the right to demand trial by combat,’ said Tyrion, enunciating each word as though Jaime were an idiot.

  Personally, he thought that Tyrion was the one being idiotic here. ‘Oh yes, I suppose there’s slightly less chance of me dying in a trial by combat. Oh wait, I just remembered, _I don’t have a sword hand_.’

  ‘Would you mind actually engaging your brain for just a second, brother?’ Tyrion paused, trying to reign in his irritation. ‘You can name a champion.’

  A champion. Suddenly, Jaime began to think that there might actually be a way out of this. A chance for him to escape with his head still in place.

  ‘Brother,’ said Tyrion, ‘ _please_ tell me there is at least one man in the Seven Kingdoms who might actually agree to fight for you.’

  Of course Jaime knew who to pick. He’d known since he heard the word ‘champion’. Still, with Tyrion’s choice of words, he couldn’t resist a jest of his own.

  ‘Do you know, brother, I don’t think I know a single man who fits that description.’

  The expression on Tyrion’s face was perfect, and Jaime had to laugh once more. 

  ‘But I do know a woman.’  


	2. Chapter 2

  ‘My Lord Hand.’

  Tyrion stopped walking and turned to face Daenerys. ‘My Queen,’ he said, bowing.

  ‘Where have you been? Ser Barristan has been searching for you’. Ser Barristan Selmy, of course, was standing by her side as always.

  Tyrion sighed internally. He had been hoping to avoid this conversation for the moment.

  ‘I have been speaking with the prisoner,’ he began, aware that his choice of words now was of the utmost importance.

  ‘Speaking with him?’ Her tone was not encouraging. But Tyrion had always known that the most difficult and unpredictable part of this plan would be convincing Daenerys. ‘What did he have to say?’

  ‘The Kingslayer has demanded trial by combat.’ He hated that name, but it was imperative not to appear on Jaime’s side if he hoped for any chance of success.

  ‘Trial by combat?’ She turned to Ser Barristan, questioning.

  ‘Trial by combat is an ancient tradition of the Seven Kingdoms,’ answered Selmy. Tyrion was constantly amazed by how little the Queen really knew of Westeros’ traditions and beliefs. ‘The accused may choose to put his fate in the hands of the gods. There is a duel to the death between the two parties concerned, and the belief is that the gods will lend strength to the hand that supports the just cause.’

  ‘In that case we have little to worry about. I’ve been informed that the Kingslayer is somewhat... lacking in hands. If he chooses to throw away his life, let him.’

  ‘Ah, my Queen?’ Tyrion interrupted. ‘The accused has the right to name a champion to fight on his behalf.’

  ‘Do you mean to tell me that there is someone in this kingdom willing to fight to the death in defence of the Kingslayer?’

  ‘So he has lead me to believe. Apparently her name is Brienne of Tarth.’

  ‘The Kingslayer’s champion is a woman?’

  ‘So it would seem.’ In truth, it had surprised Tyrion as well. He had never met the woman, and wondered who she could be that Jaime would trust her with his life.

  ‘Ser Barristan, may I name a champion?’ asked Daenerys. She was becoming bored with this discussion, Tyrion noticed. That could be dangerous.

  ‘Indeed, my Queen.’

  ‘Very well. I name Drogon.’

  Not good. ‘I don’t think that would be wise, my Queen.’

  ‘And why not, my Lord Hand?’

  ‘The people of Westeros are... partial to their traditions,’ Tyrion said, trying to select the least dangerous words. ‘I feel it would not be prudent to disregard them so early in your reign.’

  ‘Name a knight, my Queen,’ added Ser Barristan. ‘There are many who would crave the opportunity to prove themselves to you.’

  ‘But they might not win.’

  ‘We have the some of the best fighters in the land in our service,’ said Selmy.

  ‘And what if this woman is better? Have either of you seen her fight?’

  ‘No, my Queen,’ said Tyrion. ‘But –’

  ‘But I suppose I have no choice in the matter. Very well. When can this trial take place?’

  Tyrion winced. Another fact he had been hoping to avoid. ‘Well, there is another small detail...’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The exact whereabouts of Brienne of Tarth are currently... unknown.’

  ‘Then surely she cannot represent the Kingslayer.’

  ‘Forgive me, my Queen, but I believe that denying the accused of his choice of champion would be unwise.’

  ‘You think my subjects will disapprove?’

  ‘The trial by combat is very important to them.’

  Daenerys accepted this in silence. Tyrion waited. Of course, she could simply refuse to look for Brienne, and then the whole endeavour was undone. His queen looked straight at him, and for a second he was sure she could sense his deception.

  ‘Then, as my Hand, what do you suggest?’

  ‘We send ravens to all of the major Houses,’ suggested Tyrion, trying to hide his relief, ‘asking if this woman has been seen anywhere. If we hear nothing within a month, the Kingslayer’s trial continues as it would have.’

  ‘You expect me to wait a month?’ Now she was angry. Tyrion cursed silently. This was the side of Daenerys he had no wish to be dealing with. Her need for ‘justice’ was the greatest danger to her judgement, and the fact that her judgement was actually sound in this case was of no help to Tyrion.

  ‘Given the circumstances, I feel it is the wisest cause of action. Do not fear, my Queen. The Kingslayer is not going anywhere.’

  Daenerys stood still, thinking. Tyrion had done all he could now. Interrupting at this point would only turn her against him. He waited, hoping against hope that his brother could be saved.

  Finally the Queen spoke. ‘If my Hand thinks it is best, send out the ravens. The Kingslayer has one month. No more.’

  ‘Of course, my Queen.’

  Tyrion excused himself and made his way to the Maester’s chambers, struggling to conceal his triumph. He drafted a letter to be sent out to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms, adding Jaime’s own message to Brienne at the end. He handed it over to the Maester and left, wondering about this mysterious woman. _For Jaime’s sake, let her still be out there._    


	3. Chapter 3

  The smell of roasting rabbit filled the clearing, and Brienne’s stomach twisted in response. She stamped her feet, trying to warm herself. They’d been sleeping outside for a while now, and the North’s cold was hard to avoid. Settlements were sparser up here as well; they’d passed through a large town a few days ago but had seen nothing of civilisation since. As she often did, Brienne wondered if their course was worth pursuing any further. The Wall was still a long way off, and the cold up there would be far worse. Sansa had probably never even set foot there. Still, Jon Snow was the last of her family left alive since Lysa Arryn’s death, and Brienne could think of nowhere else for Sansa to go. The thought that the girl was most likely dead, had been for some time, crossed her mind, but she ignored it as always. She would keep searching until she was sure, no matter how much she longed to return to King’s Landing. She longed to have a place to stay again, a bed she could call her own for more than a night. Most of all she longed to see Jaime. And tell him what? That she had given up? Become bored of searching and returned to comfort? That was impossible to even imagine.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Pod’s panicked tone snatched Brienne from her reverie. The unmistakable sound of hoofbeats echoed through the woods. She leapt to her feet, drawing her sword as she turned to face the sound.

  ‘Who do you think it is?’

  ‘I don’t know, Pod.’

  ‘Should we run?’

  ‘There’s not enough time.’ It was true; from the noise Brienne guessed the riders would only take a minute to catch up to them.

  They waited, listening to the horses draw nearer. She gripped her sword hilt; at least they wouldn’t take her by surprise.

  Three horses burst into the clearing, slowing at the sight of Brienne and Pod.

  ‘Brienne, thank the Gods!’ called one of the riders.

  Cautiously, she started to lower her sword. She knew that voice. ‘Raynor?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said, dismounting. ‘I tell you, I’m glad we caught you up.’

  Brienne relaxed at the grin on his face, relieved. They had met Raynor in the last town they’d passed through. She sheathed her sword and gripped his hand.

  ‘Why were you following me?’

  ‘Well, barely a half day after you left, a raven comes from the capital asking for news of you.’

  ‘Who from?’

  ‘The Hand of the Queen, no less.’

  Brienne’s immediate thought was that Raynor must be mistaken. What could Tyrion Lannister want with her? She’d never met the man – he’d been languishing in the dungeons for the short time she’d been in King’s Landing. Unless he was writing on behalf of the Queen – but no, that was even more absurd. Brienne doubted Daenerys Targaryen even knew of her existence.

  It had taken a while for news of the kingdom’s new ruler to reach Brienne. Once Daenerys had secured the capital, there was hardly any resistance from the rest of the land. They were all simply too tired to rebel against another monarch. The major Houses of the North had been ordered to send representatives to swear loyalty, but other than that, the people of the North hadn’t been affected. It wasn’t as if they had anything against the Targaryen girl. The appointment of a Lannister as Hand had caused slightly more consternation, but what could anyone do about it? There were more important matters to see too, like making use of the first peace in years to restore the land.

  Brienne returned her attention to Raynor. Doubtless he knew more than he was telling her, but he was not one to divulge a complete tale in one telling. It would take some questioning for Brienne to extract the information she needed.

  ‘Why is the Hand interested in me?’

  ‘Well, it would seem he’s writing on behalf of his brother.’ Raynor paused here. Brienne could understand his interest – after all, who was she to be wanted by Ser Jaime Lannister?

  But why wouldn’t Jaime write to her himself? Yes, he lacked a hand, but there were Maesters he could dictate to if need be.

  ‘Is Ser Jaime alright?’ she asked, suddenly afraid.

  Her concern drew glances not just from Raynor this time but his two companions as well.

  ‘He’s awaiting trial for the murder of Aerys Targaryen.’

  Oh, Jaime. Of course this new Queen would seek vengeance for her father’s death. She couldn’t know what a monster he had been. _Burn them all_. An image of Jaime, weak and trembling, nearly slipping beneath the surface of the water, appeared in her mind. She blinked, somewhat shocked by the force of the memory.

  ‘What is the message, Raynor?’ She didn’t have time to pander to him anymore.

  He sighed, apparently sensing that he could no longer savour the telling. ‘The Hand asks that you ride for King’s Landing at once. Apparently the Kingslayer’s named you as his champion.’ Of course. A trial by combat was his only hope now. ‘Oh, and there’s a message from Ser Jaime. Says he has need of you and _Oathkeeper_.’

  Brienne’s hand went automatically to her blade.

  ‘Thank you, Raynor. Could you have a reply sent, please? Tell the Hand I will represent his brother.’ Ignoring Raynor’s shocked expression – she didn’t have time to explain why she was prepared to defend the Kingslayer – she turned to Pod, who had been watching the discussion with his favourite bemused expression. ‘Pod, ready the horses. We’re riding for the capital.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Yes, Pod. Now.’


	4. Chapter 4

  There was a knock at the door, and a young, apologetic messenger entered at Tyrion’s command.

  ‘Begging your pardon, my lord, but there’s a woman at the gates asking to see you,’ the young man stammered.

  ‘There is no need to beg my pardon for doing your job.’ Inwardly, Tyrion sighed. Daenerys had been keen to reward the families who had supported her, as she should. Tyrion wasn’t complaining about it, in principle. His issue was with the reality: an influx of incompetent young men, eager to please, afraid of doing anything wrong, and utterly infuriating. ‘Did this woman by any chance leave a name?’

  ‘Oh yes, my lord.’ It seemed he was impervious to sarcasm as well. ‘Calls herself Brienne of Tarth.’

  _Thank the gods, she’s here._ Tyrion rose from his chair. ‘Thank you. You are dismissed.’

  ‘Are you meeting her _now_ , my lord?’ The messenger had a look of complete bewilderment fixed on his irritating face. The look, Tyrion could understand. It was rare for the Lord Hand to see anyone immediately. The boy’s choice to comment was, however, incomprehensible.

  ‘Yes,’ Tyrion answered shortly, pushing past the incompetent fool, who hadn’t had enough sense to get out of the way.

  He made his way down to the gates, half brooding on the inundation of useless cretins and half thinking on this Brienne of Tarth. To tell the truth, Tyrion had been more than a little shocked when the raven came to say she had been found, and even more so to hear that she was riding for King’s Landing immediately. Clearly Jaime’s faith in her had been well placed. So who was she? The only other woman he had ever known Jaime to have any kind of relationship with was Cersei, and, well…

  He reached the gates, and there was Brienne of Tarth. She bowed low before him.

  ‘My Lord Hand.’

  She looked more like a man than a woman; in fact, dressed in armour as she was, Tyrion could almost have mistaken her for one if he hadn’t known better. In a way, he thought, it made perfect sense. Who better for a Lannister to turn to than an outcast? They were all misfits in some way. Still, this time it might actually work to their advantage. This woman certainly looked able to swing a sword. 

  Tyrion’s eyes drifted over her squire, then snapped back to him in shock. ‘Pod?’

  Pod jumped, and looked nervously over to Brienne.

  She sighed. ‘It’s alright, Pod. You can talk to him.’

  He hadn’t changed then.

  Pod spoke whilst contemplating his boots. ‘Well, you’d left, my lord, and I didn’t really want to stay in King’s Landing, and what with her looking for the Lady Sansa and all –’

  ‘Pod!’ Brienne hissed, and he froze in horror.

  Both Tyrion and Brienne glanced quickly around. It didn’t seem as though anyone was close enough to have heard. Tyrion stepped closer to Brienne and spoke in a low voice.

  ‘You were searching for Sansa Stark?’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ She didn’t hesitate – clearly she had decided there was no point in deception.

  ‘Is this the errand my brother sent you on?’

  ‘He told you?’ She seemed more than a little shocked.

  ‘He merely said he had sent you out into Westeros on an errand. He did not tell me what it was.’

  She paused, no doubt considering how much information she could trust him with. ‘Ser Jaime had sworn to Lady Catelyn Stark that he would return her daughters to her. Obviously, she died before we could reach King’s Landing, but he decided that he had a duty to at least find the girl.’

  ‘And did you?’

  ‘No.’

  Of course, if she had found Sansa, there was no reason for her to tell Tyrion. For some reason, though, he didn’t think she was lying. Brienne of Tarth seemed to have a sense of honour, which raised the question of just why she was willing to risk her life for Jaime.

  Tyrion stepped back; there was no sense discussing Sansa any further.

  ‘If you’ll follow me, my lady, we have rooms set aside for you,’ he continued at a louder volume. ‘Pod, I am sure if you ask someone will be able to find a room for you.’

  ‘Yes, my lord.’ Pod bowed and set off. Tyrion briefly had a nightmarish vision of a conversation between Pod and one of those new messengers, but decided to ignore it, since there was hardly anything he could do to prevent it.

  He set off through the keep with Brienne following, speaking as he went. ‘The date of the trial has not yet been set, my lady, but I imagine that once then Queen learns you are here she will reach a decision very quickly.’

  ‘My lord, I must tell you I am no lady.’

  ‘It is merely a courtesy.’

  ‘One that I do not require.’

  Tyrion bowed his head. ‘As you wish.’

  They walked in silence for a while. Tyrion could have assigned someone to show Brienne her rooms, of course, but this woman intrigued him. He wanted to find out as much as he could about her. Besides, he wasn’t sure he could trust any of those boys to get the right room.

  She cleared her throat, then hesitated. ‘May I see him?’

  The concern in her voice was clear. Interesting. Brienne actually cared for Jaime. Tyrion briefly considered allowing it, but the thought of Daenerys’ rage was a powerful deterrent.

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t think that would be wise. The Queen might not take kindly to it. He shall be informed you are here, though.’

  Brienne nodded. She was clearly not going to volunteer any more information, so it would be down to Tyrion to extract it. He pondered as they walked. It was probably a bad idea to risk offending Jaime’s champion, but his curiosity was incurable. And Jaime certainly had no intention of telling him who she was.

  ‘If you don’t mind my asking,’ said Tyrion, deciding, perhaps foolishly, that the risk was minimal, ‘why did you agree to defend my brother?’

  ‘He saved my life once.’ She was not forthcoming with any more details.

  ‘So you owe him a debt?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  But it was more than that. Brienne tried hard not to give anything away, but there was something in her voice when she talked about Jaime, something Tyrion couldn’t quite decipher.

  They reached the rooms sooner than Tyrion would have liked. Still, he supposed, he probably couldn’t have gleaned much more had he tried.

  ‘Here we are, my –’ He caught himself. ‘I hope you’ll be comfortable.’

  ‘I’m sure I will, my lord.’

  ‘I’ll have someone inform you as soon as the date is set.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  With that, she turned and entered her rooms, and Tyrion set off with apprehension to inform the Queen that the Kingslayer’s champion had, in fact, arrived.


	5. Chapter 5

  It was time. Pod had insisted on armouring her, so she stood still while he scuttled around. The Queen had not wasted any time. The date had been set barely an hour after Brienne had reached King’s Landing. It seemed Daenerys was eager for her justice.

  Brienne did not know who she would face today. She had seen no one except Pod and those who brought her meals since Tyrion had left. It seemed that Daenerys Targaryen was not keen to have the Kingslayer’s champion mixing with her subjects. Silently, Brienne apologised to the challenger she would face today. She was sure they did not deserve to die, whoever they were. It was not their fault no one had ever told them the true story of Ser Jaime Lannister. Doubtless they believed that they fought on the side of justice, that the gods were behind them. For her part, Brienne no longer cared what the gods had decided. If they were just, or if they cared, they would lend her their strength, but Brienne of Tarth had no need of divine aid today.

  Pod tightened the last of the straps and stood before her. The muscles in his mouth worked nervously, and Brienne dreaded having to hear whatever he was attempting to tell her.

  ‘There’s no need to say anything, Pod.’

  ‘My lady –’

  ‘No, Pod.’

  She pushed her way through the door without looking at him. _He thinks I am going to die_ , she realised. For a moment Brienne wondered if Pod knew something she didn’t, the Queen’s choice of champion perhaps, but she pushed the thought aside. It did not matter who they were. They were going to die. Regrettably, perhaps.

  An enormous crowd had gathered in the yard. This was probably the most exciting thing to happen in the capital since the sack, and that was, after all, an altogether different kind of excitement. Brienne could feel their eyes on her as she made her way to the centre of the arena. She couldn’t make out the individual whispered words, but she could easily imagine what they added up to.

  Waiting for her was a boy. She tried to avert her eyes, to not comprehend, but it was futile. _So young_. That was all she could think. Why would they chose one so young?

  A hush dropped across the crowd and Brienne belatedly turned to the stand of seats set aside for the more important onlookers. The random thought flitted through her mind that this was probably where they held their tournaments. At the centre was the Queen; she had just stood, prompting the silence.

  As she began to speak, no doubt listing Jaime’s crimes and invoking the gods’ help, Brienne let her eyes travel over the others on the stand. A man who must have been Ser Barristan Selmy; she had heard he supported Daenerys Targaryen. Next was Tyrion Lannister, Jaime’s brother, the Queen’s Hand. His face was impassive, and Brienne wondered which outcome he wished for. Of course, as the Queen’s Hand he could hardly be seen to root for her father’s murderer, but surely he could not be so callous as to wish for his brother’s death? He was the one who had written to her, but whether on order or impulse she did not know. Still, she remembered his willingness to protect the secret of Sansa, and the look on his face when they discussed her. Compassion. Brienne trusted him. Perhaps foolishly, but there it was.

  There were others, of course, the important lords of Daenerys’ reign. They did not interest Brienne. Her eyes kept moving, searching, until they found him.

  He was watching her; perhaps he had been watching her since she had first entered the yard. Something almost resembling a smile played across his lips as she looked at him. She sensed his gratitude, his relief, and for a moment was tempted to laugh. Had he really believed there was even the slightest chance she would not come? The man was a fool.

  It was the absence of noise that caught Brienne’s attention. She looked back to the Queen and saw that she had finished speaking and was now seated once more. The crowd’s silence had shifted; now it betrayed anticipation, not respect. Brienne turned to the youth she had to kill. Once more, she apologised in her mind. It was not right, not just, for one so young to die, but now Brienne had no other choice. _The blame is hers_ , she thought. _She should not have chosen him_. But this was a cowardly way of thinking. No matter what had lead him here, it was _Oathkeeper_ that would take his life, and Brienne could not absolve herself of that.

  The boy had stepped backwards, holding out his sword. Pushing such thoughts aside, Brienne took up her stance. Pity had no place now.

  They began to circle. Brienne made the first strike; she had no desire to draw out this fight. He blocked, but staggered back under the force. Clearly, he had not anticipated her strength. She pressed her advantage, striking again and again, pushing him back all the time. He returned blows of his own, but too few, and far too slow.

  Brienne knew she would win. It was a judgement based on more than skill, based on the fact that she simply could not lose. That had never been an option, and each swing of their swords brought them closer to the inevitable.

  The boy, in a desperate attempt to avoid being backed to the edge, struck out, lunging with all of his weight. Brienne blocked the move and twisted to the side, allowing his momentum to carry him forward. He stumbled, and now he was lost. He blocked the first few cuts, but he could not hold them back forever. He was unbalanced now, and scared. Panicking.

  Then it came. One move, and he was falling, the sword flying from his hand. Brienne stood over him, lying helpless on the ground. Now there was just the one thing left.


	6. Chapter 6

 

  The sword fell, and a young man’s death bought his life. The relief was a physical sensation, so powerful and pure that it flooded his body and held him immobile for a few heartbeats. When he recovered, Brienne was sheathing _Oathkeeper_ and bowing to the Queen. She had not looked at him.  

  Brienne turned to go, but Daenerys’ voice held her back.

  ‘Wait.’

  It was incredible how much power lay in that one word. Perhaps Westeros had at last found its true ruler.

  Brienne paused, then slowly turned and returned to her place under the stand. Jaime leaned forwards. She was so close...

  ‘Yes, my queen?’

  ‘You fought bravely today, Brienne of Tarth.’

  ‘Thank you, my queen.’ Brienne’s confusion was shared by everyone there.

  ‘Why?’ The ice in Daenerys’ voice froze Jaime’s heart. Surely she couldn’t punish Brienne for what had happened today? The fight had been fair, this was the law, she couldn’t hurt Brienne. And yet, in the Queen’s eyes, Brienne had robbed her of her revenge. Who else would she punish?

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t understand, my queen.’ Still, there was only confusion in Brienne’s voice. She did not know her danger... that is, if the danger was real and not conjured up by Jaime’s panicked mind.

  ‘Why did you fight bravely in defence of the Kingslayer?’

  ‘I did not.’ This time, the crowd was not silent. Mutters broke out instantly, the sound of voices swelling and sweeping across the yard. Silently, Jaime joined his voice with theirs. What in the name of the Seven could she mean?

  ‘Silence.’ At the Queen’s command the voices ceased instantly. ‘Explain yourself.’

  ‘I did not fight for the Kingslayer today. I fought for Ser Jaime Lannister.’

  ‘Who is the Kingslayer.’

  ‘No, my queen. He was. The Kingslayer died with his sword hand.’

  ‘I do not understand you.’ The words came out clipped, one by one. Daenerys was barely restraining her anger, and Jaime wanted to shout down to Brienne. _Stop. Can’t you see what you’re doing?_

  ‘Once there was a boy who dreamed of honour, and his name was Jaime Lannister. But he learnt that this world does not always allow for honour.’

  ‘He murdered my father.’

  ‘Yes.’ Brienne stared straight at Daenerys, and Jaime realised she knew exactly what she was doing. She intended to do it. _You fool. Why?_

  ‘Yes, my queen, he murdered your father,’ she continued. ‘And the Kingslayer was born that day. I agree that the Kingslayer was a man none of us would choose to defend, but the Kingslayer is gone. They took his hand and they gave us back Ser Jaime Lannister, and he is indeed a man of honour. Perhaps not a perfect honour, or one that anyone else understands, but an honour that fits this twisted world. That is why I fought for him today.’

  Jaime wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He had never imagined that Brienne could care for him enough to defend his honour with words as well as swords. He could never have suspected that she believed in him this much, to proclaim his honour to all these people. And he would definitely not have believed that she was stupid enough to do it.

  He looked to Daenerys, sitting like the carved image of a vengeful queen. He waited for the anger that would shatter his world.

  But it did not come. Daenerys sat, like stone, for a time. When at last she spoke, her voice had softened.

  ‘You speak well, Brienne of Tarth. Perhaps if he can inspire such trust, he truly is not the man we thought him to be. You may leave.’

  Brienne bowed low, then turned and walked out of the arena.

  She had not looked at him once.

* * *

  ‘Bring the accused before me.’

  The two guards at his side pulled him to his feet, dragging him down the steps and throwing him to his knees in the dust. Clearly Brienne’s words had not affected everyone. Jaime raised his head to the Queen to hear his fate.

  ‘Ser Jaime Lannister, the gods have judged you to be innocent. You are a free man.’ A vibration that was not quite a sound spread through the crowd, though they could not have been entirely surprised at the verdict. The Queen waited for absolute silence before continuing. ‘However, I cannot allow you to serve as part of my Queensguard. I hereby strip you of your white cloak and the duties that accompany it. Release him.’ With that, the Queen stood and left, and those on the stand hastened to follow her. His two guards turned and walked away as well, one of them pausing to spit at his feet. Behind him, Jaime heard the noise of the crowd dispersing. He continued to kneel, alone. A free man. The words were truer than Daenerys could possibly have realised. It seemed he had been Kingsguard forever. Without it, he felt... not bereft, but unchained. Free. Finally, truly, free.

  Eventually, he rose in the now deserted arena and headed for the nearest building, uncaring of where he would end up. The guards let him in without question. It seemed he really was free. He had no idea where he was headed, but luckily he ran into Tyrion before he could turn two corners.

  ‘Congratulations, brother. The gods smile on you.’

  ‘Only because you mock me.’

  Tyrion’s face creased with a smile. ‘Your stupidity is tremendous, it’s true.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Jaime said. That was all he could say. Words had always been Tyrion’s talent.

  Then Tyrion told Jaime where he needed to go, and Jaime wondered if his brother was trying to prove his stupidity, for he was indeed a fool to not realise it himself.


	7. Chapter 7

  Brienne’s fingers struggled with the straps, her armour clattering to the floor when she finally managed to release it. She was tired. She pressed her hands to her face, closing her eyes, and now she allowed herself to see it. The boy’s face, the panic in his eyes, the word which his mouth had formed but he never spoke. _Please_. That was the truth. He had died pleading for his life.

  She crossed to the basin they had left for her and washed away the dust and sweat from her face. The memory remained. She didn’t know his name. She should find out his name, she thought, ignoring the fact that it couldn’t change anything, couldn’t make anything better.

  She splashed her face again, forcing her thoughts away from the dead boy. The image of Queen Daenerys appeared in her mind, sitting high above, stern and proud. Brienne had surprised herself with her words, but she had known they had to be said. For Jaime, for her... and for the dead boy. It made no sense, but part of her felt that he had died in vain if the world continued to believe that Jaime was guilty. Perhaps it was simply her attempt to absolve herself of some of the guilt.

  She wondered what had happened after she left the trial. A sudden fear that Daenerys would condemn Jaime anyway gripped her, but then she remembered the change in the Queen’s manner. Maybe she was being foolish, but Brienne believed that her words had reached the Queen in some way. She doubted she had changed the minds of the crowd, but if she had swayed Daenerys Targaryen even a little then it was a victory. And then there was Jaime. What had he thought of her little speech? Brienne had been too afraid to look at him. She had never admitted what she really thought of him before, and she feared his reaction.

  She glanced around the room. She had only been here a few days, and there was nothing to make her want to stay. The Queen may decide not to throw her in the dungeons for her insolence, but Brienne still didn’t think she would be welcome in King’s Landing. She should try to find Pod, although he might prefer to stay with Tyrion now.

  There was a knock at her door. Perhaps she had misjudged the Queen’s reaction. She crossed to the door and opened it, bracing herself for the cold words of a soldier.

  It was Jaime.

  For a moment it was all she could do to stand and look at him. She hadn’t expected to see him; she didn’t even know how he had managed to find her. She recovered herself and stepped back, inviting him in.

  He stood awkwardly in the middle of the room, not quite looking at her.

  ‘I wanted to thank you,’ he started, then let whatever else he might have said fade away. Brienne felt she ought to fill the silence he had left.

  ‘You’ve saved my life, more than once.’

  ‘No, I meant – for what you said.’ He was looking straight at her now. ‘You didn’t owe me that. No one does. I don’t deserve –’

  Her hand was over his mouth. ‘Don’t say that.’

  She felt his smile against her fingers and suddenly realised what she had done. She snatched her hand back, horrified.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what...’ Now it was her voice which trailed off. He was still smiling.

  Brienne clasped her hands in front of her, trying to prevent any other wayward activities. She could feel Jaime’s gaze, but now it was her turn to avoid it.

  ‘The Queen took back my white cloak,’ he said to break the silence. ‘Well, metaphorically speaking, of course. I haven’t seen the real one since they arrested me. I do seem to remember two guards thinking it would be incredibly funny to gag me with it...’

  ‘What will you do?’ She allowed herself to look at his face, but not the eyes. Not yet.

  ‘Well, I would return to Casterly Rock, but I imagine part of my little brother’s deal with our new Queen is that he is named heir there.’ He laughed, almost bitterly. ‘I think I might be a poor man now. How strange. I shall have to marry a rich maiden. Do you happen to know any?’

  Brienne felt herself begin to smile. ‘No, but if I run into any I’ll tell you.’

  ‘Why, where are you going?’ His joking tone was gone, and she felt her gaze slipping back to the floor.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘You didn’t find Sansa Stark.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘She’s probably dead. But we never reached the Wall, she might be with Jon Snow.’

  ‘Don’t go.’

  ‘Are you asking me to break an oath?’ She forced herself to laugh, half afraid of the seriousness of his tone. ‘And just after I defended your honour, too.’

  She intended it to be a joke, but there was something inside her resisting the attempt to be trivial. Somehow, they were standing closer than before. Brienne hadn’t noticed it happening.

  ‘I’m saying...’ He pressed his lips together, considering. She couldn’t look away. ‘I don’t want you to leave. I mean, I want you to stay, with me.’    

  She kissed him. There was a moment of shock at her boldness, but then his arms wound round her and he pulled her closer. She breathed him in. _Jaime, Jaime_. He was right. She couldn’t leave. She belonged here, with him.

  They were at the bed. She fell back, hearing the whisper of fabric as it was pulled over her head, feeling his skin against hers.

  _Jaime._

* * *

  The sunlight fell across the bed, warming her skin. She turned her head and there he was, smiling at her. Warmth spread through her. He pulled her to him and whispered in her ear.

  ‘Marry me, Brienne.’

  ‘I’m not a rich maiden.’

  ‘Are you sure? I'm sure I heard somewhere that Tarth was full of sapphires.’

  She laughed and leaned her head back against him, her body relaxing against his.

  ‘They’ll have to think of a new name, won’t they?’ he said.

  ‘Hm?’

  ‘For you. The Maid of Tarth is hardly appropriate now. Whatever will they call you?’

  She thought for a second, then turned over to face him. ‘Why, The Wench of Tarth, of course.’

  He grinned. ‘My wench.’

  ‘My Kingslayer.’  


End file.
